


NYY at SEA

by linaerys



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-07
Updated: 2008-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:56:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linaerys/pseuds/linaerys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in 1997.  Lots of first times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	NYY at SEA

NYY vs. SEA. Derek counts down to it. He can’t help it. Every time he checks the schedule, a piece of his brain ticks off the days remaining.

They land the day before the first game of the series. Usually Derek sleeps on planes but this time he looked out the window at Mt. Rainier passing underneath, sticking out of the thick clouds over the sound and Seattle. It’s misting when they land; even in August Seattle is cool and wet.

There’s a message on his phone from Alex. “No family this weekend. Come on over.”

Derek gets his overnight bag from one of the ground crew and lets the rest go on the van to make its way to the park. He gives an overhead wave to the rest of the team, and gets a few whistles, a few frowns.

Torre doesn’t mind him spending time with Alex, since their friendship means more copy for Derek, more copy for the Yankees. The press writes about that instead of Steinbrenner’s excesses, Torre’s missteps. Some of his teammates mind. If he has a bad year the criticisms might start to mean something, but this year Derek’s walking on water.

He gets a cab from the airport. He doesn’t care if he looks too eager when he knocks on Alex’s door. And Alex grins when he greets him and says, “I couldn’t wait either.”

Derek doesn’t get a chance to answer, because as soon as the door closes, Alex starts kissing him. They trip over piles of clothing and magazines as Alex pulls him further into the apartment.

“You gotta clean up, or get a service or something,” says Derek, between nips of Alex’s lips. It’s been too long, it’s always too long. They talk on the phone a lot, watch games together that way. Derek got used to cheering with one arm, while he cradles the phone against his chin. He knows the peculiar sound Alex’s tongue makes when he’s sorting sunflower seeds from the shell. But it’s still not the same. On the phone they’re buddies, and nothing more.

Alex visited him on the off season, after Derek’s brilliant first year. The year before that was a little awkward between them since Alex got called up first. But after the championship the playing field was level again, even tilted a bit in Derek’s favor.

“New York has a better nightlife,” was all the excuse Alex needed to hop on a plane and get off in New York with nothing but a duffle bag and plans to crash in Derek’s spare room. “I could stay with my family,” he said with a smirk, “but where would I bring girls?”

They went out to Derek’s favorite clubs, going in VIP entrances, velvet ropes lowered for them. Derek was recognizable enough, and Alex cute enough that they both found girls to bring back to Derek’s place. They drank champagne on Derek’s bed, and he had more than he thought, because next thing he knew, Alex just started fucking his girl, right next to them, like it was nothing. They were both still mostly clothed, but Alex’s trousers were down his thighs, and the shirt Derek had loaned him, which had stretched against his chest all night, ever time he moved, flapped against his bare ass.

Derek’s girl started tugging on him to do the same, but he couldn’t stop looking at Alex. He put that sort of single minded concentration into fucking that he did into hitting. Except it seemed like here Derek had the power to break that concentration, if not on the field, because Alex looked over at him.

He looked at Derek as if he was searching for something in Derek’s expression. Derek nodded and looked away; it was too intimate a moment to share for long, but he knew what it meant. They wouldn’t need any girls next time.

Hell, Derek was tempted to kick the girls out right then, and finally find out what Alex’s mouth tasted like, but he didn’t need the gossip that would result, and he was more than ready to do right by his date just thinking about _next time_.

Alex took his girl to the guestroom for round two, and when Derek woke the next morning up he was alone in his bed, and he heard the shower running. “Hey, I’m sleeping,” he yelled.

Alex had left the door to the bathroom open and he poked his head out around the door, grinning like his face was about to split in half. “You coming?”

Derek didn’t need any more invitation than that. He stripped off his boxers and stepped into the shower. Alex was already hard, and his mouth tasted like stale beer from the night before. “Geez, don’t you brush your teeth?” Derek asked, and pushed him up against the wall so he could feel every firm, muscled inch of Alex’s body against his.

Later, under the spray, after Derek’s fingers had gone pruney and his legs weak from coming into Alex’s hand, Alex ducked his head and asked Derek how long he’d wanted this.

“A long time,” Derek answered, not making eye contact either.

During the previous home series that year, Alex stayed at his place, and after each game, they sneaked away from post-game celebrations or commiserations to trade blowjobs and collapse in a pile of heavy limbs, then woke up the next day and do it all again. (Both of them hit well that series, which, Derek said meant they shouldn’t change their routine. “You think you can fly out here when we play Boston?” he asked. “It could help.”)

“Fuck, what are we doing?” Derek asked on the last night, after Alex sucked his reason out through his dick, and left him too stupid to remember to that if he asked that sort of question Alex would answer.

“Not that,” said Alex. It took Derek a minute to make the connection, ‘not that’ to not fucking. To the realization that Alex wanted to fuck. Derek curved his hand around Alex’s ass, round hard muscle. Alex murmured something and rubbed against him.

“That’s a big step,” said Derek, always ready to play the I’m-older-and-wiser card. In this case he really did know what he was talking about, bitter memories of some blond kid who spent two days in the majors, and both nights in Derek’s bed, who wouldn’t stop calling, all because Derek fucked him.

Alex wouldn’t be like that.

“Yeah,” said Alex, nuzzling against him, hand hot over Derek’s dick, tempting it to jump up again for the third time that night.

“Wait’ll our next series,” said Derek, trying to sound casual, but his now his dick did betray him, the heat of Alex’s hand and the thought of fucking him, making it jump. He felt Alex smile against his neck before he ducked his head back down to suck Derek off again.

“You promise?” asked Alex when he finished, and Derek murmured his assent before they fell asleep.

And now here’s Alex a month later, bouncing off his toes, puppy-dog eager for whatever Derek’s brought him. Part of Derek wants to put it off another night, be able to trace the gorgeous lines of Alex’s body, get one of those toe-curling blowjobs without the pressure of anything else. Then Alex kisses Derek like he’s drowning, and runs his palm up Derek’s hard-on, and the pressure doesn’t seem like a problem.

They stroke each other off on the bed, still half dressed, because it’s been too long and neither one of them can wait. When they’re done Derek rolls onto his side and props his head up on his elbows. Alex is wearing that goofy, just-got-some look he always has.

“You need to get a bigger apartment,” says Derek. The void, or really another pile of clothes, yawns behind him. “Or at least a bigger bed. You’re not making league minimum anymore.” Not that he ever was.

“Yeah, sure.”

Alex’s eyes go soft, and Derek thinks he might be about to say something mushy, like he missed Derek or he wished he were playing in New York or something, something he can’t quite answer with Alex’s honesty, without over-thinking it, so he says, “I’m starved. You got anything to eat here?”

“Could order some pizza. Or sushi, or something.” He looks disappointed.

“Or we could eat later.” Derek traces a hand around the side of Alex’s face and kisses him, slower and softer than before, parting his lips gently with his tongue and then climbing up on top of him, never stopping as their kissing becomes more urgent again.

“Don’t fuck me so hard I can’t run tomorrow,” says Alex while Derek is biting red marks into his neck. Derek stops mid-kiss. Sometimes Alex has no filter whatsoever. It gets him in trouble with the press, but it can be a blessing, and this time it keeps Derek from having to say something like, “So, you still want me to fuck you, or what?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” he says mockingly instead. “We don’t need the advantage.” But he means it, too. He’s going to take forever; he’s going to make Alex beg for it. Not that that should be too hard. Whatever shame Alex has ever felt about what they do together, he doesn’t share with Derek.

He’s pretty sure it’s Alex’s first time at this; although he’s damn sure his wasn’t the first dick Alex sucked. No, Alex likes sucking dick way too long to have waited until he was twenty-two to have a taste.

He takes a finger-full of the lube he didn’t notice during their earlier stumble to the bed (Alex is _prepared_ ) and starts rubbing it around Alex’s hole while he licks Alex’s cock up and down, soft and quiet now, to get him used to it. Alex pulls a knee up, too much like he does during warm-ups, when Derek tries to pretend he isn’t watching, and his finger goes right in. Derek pulls back from sucking on Alex just to get a look at him, laid out like that. His eyes are wide and his teeth worry his lower lip.

Derek wants to promise him it’ll be okay, but he can show him that just as well. He takes Alex in his mouth again, still soft there, just leaving his finger in, until Alex is bucking his hips up against Derek and saying, “Come on. I’m hungry too you know. If I knew this was going to take all night . . .”

Derek pushes his finger all the way in and tilts his head up to ask, “You’d what?”

Alex gasps when Derek’s finger goes in, but he still props himself up on his elbows and says, “I would have ordered pizza.”

Derek gives Alex a half smile, but the challenge is on, now he is going to make Alex beg for it, fuck him so good he’ll never want anyone else. He listens to Alex’s breathing, getting harder whenever Alex gasps.

He’s got two fingers in deep, Alex’s cock hard between his lips when he finally hears what he wants. “Please.”

“Please what?” he asks, putting his other hand around Alex to replace his mouth.

“Please fuck me, please, please, please.”

Derek looks at him sharply to see if Alex is making a joke of this, but he’s not, all traces of his usual self-satisfied grin washed off his face and replaced with transparent need. Derek swallows around a sudden tightness in his throat. His face flushes—Alex can give him what he wants like no one else, just a few words and that perfect sincerity, and Derek’s lost.

He pulls his fingers out long enough to put on a condom, and then slides them back in again. Alex rocks his hips to meet them.

“Tell me if it’s okay,” says Derek softly before he starts to push in.

“Wait,” says Alex, and so he pauses, halfway in. Alex’s calf next to his face is the closest thing Derek can kiss, so he does, and runs his hands down Alex’s legs, until Alex starts pushing against him again, and suddenly Derek’s all the way in.

He hasn’t done this that much either, and he’s forgotten how intimate it is, face-to-face, not like with a girl where he can hide himself in her neck, or close his eyes. Alex makes him want to watch, so he can remember during the long months until next time. He wraps his hand around Alex’s cock and tries to set up a cadence between his fucking and his stroking, but he keeps on getting distracted by how good Alex feels, how good he looks, to do much but hold on.

Alex pulls himself up a little so they can kiss. His dick rubs up against Derek’s stomach, and then he’s coming, they both are, Alex hips moving against his in a broken rhythm to try to make it last just a little bit longer.

They stay together, breathing hard against each other’s mouths, Alex’s come sticky on Derek’s fingers, their sweat cooling in damp evening air. Alex reaches up to touch his face, big hands gentle. The tightness in Derek’s throat comes back. If only they could stay like this.

***

“You think you’re gonna be able to run tomorrow?” Derek asks when they’re in the shower. Alex tastes likes the pizza they ordered and ate in bed, and Derek licks the sauce from his lips before the shower spray can steal it away from him.

“If not I’ll just try to hit homers,” says Alex with a grin.

“Like you don’t always.”

“Well, yeah, but if it works you’ll have to come visit more often.” His smile stays wide, but when their eyes meet his go worried.

There’s nothing Derek can say to that. Superstition keeps him from mentioning the possibility of trades. No team needs two high-profile shortstops. Alex needs to stop thinking about it and just enjoy what they have. They both do.

“I will,” he promises anyway.


End file.
